The wanderer
by Dr.End
Summary: NOTE: As of 3/1/17 this story is currently under a heavy rework and getting entirely re-written, so if you read it originally re-read it cause everything's being redone. Hunter was a bloodbag of Scrotus used to heal the warboys, but when Furiosa and Max steal the War Rig and high tail it out of there and Hunter is given a chance he takes it. Now a wanderer will he survive?


**The Wanderer is my favorite story that I've written to date and as such I'm re-writing it. The same style will be kept so if you didn't like the story to begin with (a roving bounty hunter is called to defend the one man he vowed to kill against his will) then don't bother reading this. Now let's go.**

Hunter hung upside down a needle in his arm draining his blood into another psycho. A few feet away a new bloodbag was being tattooed with his branding while off to Hunter's right he could see a black car sporting a… no way that was a V-8! The only one still remaining was sat in Stank Gum's truck or so he'd learned from his time as a bloodbag, so how was this car sporting one as well unless there was more than one left from before the great end.

 **Time Skip five hours**

Scrotus' wives were missing and with Furiosa having just started a campaign to the bullet farm and gas town… The outcome was clear to see. "Strap him onto the Lancer's post then!" Hunter turned to look at Nux as he fought with his lancer over not being able to drive. He'd come in banged up and bleeding and his lanceman Slit had tried to take Nux's wheel to take over as driver, that wasn't going to go over well.

The bloodbag though now determined to be a feral had been taken and probably chained to Nux's car leaving Hunter once more alone as the sole bloodbag currently alive enough to move though not the only one still in use. "Organic strap this bloodbag into my machine! I'm called to Valhalla and must join the war party!" Hunter looked at his current life leech who was clenching his wheel requesting the Organic mechanic to fasten him; Hunter onto this guy's war rig.

And that's how he'd gotten here. Seated in a rake truck chasing this war rig being driven by the feral bloodbag who'd escaped and Furiosa. The rest of the Rake truck's crew was oddle missing probably killed by the bullets wizzing by outside and the driver's shoulder was leaking blood all over the place from a shrapnel wound and he was going to pass out soon. He'd pulled the IV pretty early on out of his arm and slapped some tape over and Hunter had also removed it to prevent losing any blood since he was no longer being used as a blood bag. If he could just push out his driver but he'd be killed right now if he tried. The driver was still too conscious.

There was the blood bag cutting the chains off the harpoons stuck into the rear of the semi trailer. The wire whipped back towards the cab and Hunter ducked seeing the angle the cable was coming back at but the driver wasn't quite as lucky, the cable snapped back cutting a gouge into his face obviously killing him and as the truck started to swerve Hunter grabbed the wheel pushing the driver into the passenger seat and taking over control of the truck.

Raising the rake Hunter floored the pedal racing to meet the war rig; even if it was a bad idea he was going to thank the people who gave him his freedom. He caught up quickly the powerful truck easily capable of holding level with the large semi but since it was used for stopping it was pretty much pointless. Slamming the brakes to avoid a gunshot he sped back up opting to first flip off who turned out to be one of the wives and second taking note of the makeshift steering wheel of a pipe wrench and rifle being used to drive the rig. There was a spare wheel or two stashed in the back of the truck which he reached back to grab only to take note there was no good way to lean out and pass over the wheel without possibly wrecking the truck.

Improvising on the fly he slumped the dead driver over the wheel holding the truck straight before sliding over and swinging open the door. This was a terrible idea and he was likely to be killed should the truck turn or swerve in any way but hey one good turn deserves another. Grabbing onto the speed rig's door he swung himself onto the rig praying the truck would remain aligned with the rig. They unstrapped the wheel and Hunter locked on the new one. Grabbing the pipe wrench Hunter turned and opened the jaws of the wrench before jumping like he planned to attack the truck.

The top of the jaws punctured the thin rusted sheet steel but caught on the reinforced roll cage and as he swung into the cab ripping the pipe wrench from the roof and sitting it on the corpse sat next to him the war rig's horn bellowed which he responded to in kind by sounding the truck's own horn before turning off into the desert even as the semi's horn bellowed once more before it shifted gears belching fire from its stacks and took off into the desert.

The rake truck was empty its fuel tanks dry and its nitros long gone used to escape the war party but at least he was free. His ratty clothes had been replaced with what he could strip from the driver's corpse. A worn pair of pants with tire rubber kneepads, a set of ratty torn boots with steel plates flattened over the tips making impromptu steel tips for kicking. A jacket missing a left sleeve, some driving gloves and a head wrap. Driving goggles for blocking out sand, a skull face mask of sorts and a strip of tough fabric to cover the top of the head and the neck from sun. grabbing the rusty red wrench and slipping it into a large loop on the pants' belt clearly made for some gun or weapon but for now itd have to hold his wrench.

A structure or what was left stood against the burning yellow he'd been wondering through now for a few hours, it was mostly destroyed but looked to be mostly unlooted so in he went. The doors were rotted and sand blasted from storms over the years, pushing them open what was left of the entryway was ruined and filled with rubble. The stairs to a second floor led to nothing and had rotted long ago but stairs deeper into the structure remained intact, the basement was cool and was all dark stone much older than the structure above aged and weathered long past the weathering from above. The first few rooms held rotted furniture or piles of scrap not even worth collecting rusted and mostly turned to powder. A room near the end of the hall though held weapon parts, actions, trigger mechanisms, scopes and other pieces which Hunter collected and stashed in a satchel he'd found along his scavenging (he definitely hadn't murdered a random person for it and the canteen they had) and carried on. The next room held old clothing or he thought it was clothing. There was so little to it that it resembled more along the lines of the costumes sometimes wore by the warboys during ceremonies from the old days rather than a real outfit.

The final room is what held the real treasures though. Pushing open the heavy iron door much too heavy to take with him Hunter wandered inside. The center of the room held a rotted and tarnished chair and a small barely held together table probably only still standing due to a lack of people in the area however a glint from something situated on the table caught his attention.

A large pistol tarnished black from rust rested on the table a mag and rounds resting sort of surrounding the gun almost beckoning to him. Collecting the ammunition, magazines and pistol and the table crumbled under the shift in weight letting glasses and a bottle of hardened liquid clatter to the floor.

Turning on his heel to leave he noticed a strange box of sorts against the wall though and curiosity peaked he strode up to it. Heavy oak wood with engravings too flowing to read marked the surface and the design betrayed the box's origins, a coffin.

No one would mistake Hunter for a grave robber but in a world where what the dead carried to the grave with them could oftentimes mean the difference between life and death. He pushed the heavy lid up revealing a thankfully empty red lined box where lied another handgun this one in worse condition. Chips and nicks marred the slide and visible marks as if someone's hand had clamped over the pistol marred the slide and frame but just like the previous one a smattering of ammunition and magazines surrounded the firearm and upon working the action and receiving a satisfying clatter of metal on metal as the slide fell on a loaded chamber Hunter decided, he'd take and use these pistols if for no reason other than he needed weapons.

Climbing back from the looted basement of the house Hunter looked to the sky noting the lowering sun before turning North and continuing his journey.

 **So here's chapter one and I gotta say I like this one much better than the original chapter one. Now yes Fury Road is featured but most of the characters will be based on the game rather than the movie. It's canon to the game as well that the movie happened so it's a great way to put in a character and as for his weapons the pistols in order of appearance are The Cassull and The Jackyl which will get other names at some point. For those unaware as well the manor and clear references hidden throughout his journey through the structure reference Hellsing Ultimate and there will be no further references. Stay tuned for chapter 2!**


End file.
